


Restore Each Other

by pvwork



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Genderfluid Character, Gray-ace character, Identity, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Self-Acceptance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 11:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1939215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pvwork/pseuds/pvwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akaashi and Kuroo in a closet having a round of Truth or Dare, while spending Seven Minutes in Heaven, while playing Spin the Bottle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restore Each Other

The whole of Fukurodani Volleyball Club just arrived on location after a morning long bus ride not an hour earlier when Bokuto is already excitedly jumping into their midst with a new plan for awfulness brewing like a storm just behind his amber eyes. 

“Let’s play Spin the Bottle!” Bokuto cries as he waves an empty water bottle around. The offending bottle is approximately the length of his forearm and about as wide as a small tree’s trunk. 

Quickly ducking under his arm, Keiji puts a restraining hand on Bokuto’s wrist. “Don’t wave that around. You’re going to hurt someone.”

“Okay, but I’ll only stop if people actually come to play!” 

Fukurodani arrived a day early to the place where they were going to be spending a good portion of their summer playing their hearts out and sacrificing blood, sweat, and tears to the volleyball court. It was still early, but excitement was already setting in because the thought of volleyball all day everyday and the lack of parental supervision was promising great fun and excellence. 

Coaches didn’t really count as supervision, and everyone knew that. 

“No one else is really around,” Komi points out, the voice of reason when Keiji is too busy being the voice of caution. They trade on Tuesdays and Thursdays for the sake of variety. 

Onaga, a first year and desperate to be included, points out too quickly, “Nekoma just got here.”

Keiji sighs when Bokuto whoops and races towards the main entrance, searching for more victi--uh, friends, to include in his unfortunate plan. 

The fated event is planned for after dinner when Nekoma’s couches are sure to challenge Fukurodani’s coaches to a drinking contest. Bokuto and Kuroo have known each other since they were second years, and now that they’re third years, their propensity for getting into trouble has only increased. 

Usually, Keiji would to opt out of playing Spin the Bottle, but when Kozume siddled up to him very nondescriptly during dinner and told him that the dynamic duo had gotten their hands on a flask of whiskey from somewhere and were planning on breaking it out that night, he’d had no choice but to attend. 

Keiji quickly consulted with Yaku and Komi and between the three of them they managed to shepherd all the first years to bed before their innocent minds could be corrupted and the shining images of their upperclassmen could be tarnished. 

Then the three of them trudged to to mid-sized conference room that Kuroo and Bokuto had “booked” and opened the door warily. 

“Welcome to the party!” Bokuto chirps and holds out a paper cup of something that smelled exactly like rubbing alcohol. 

“I think you’re supposed to use this on open wounds,” Komi sighs, but takes it anyway and throws it back like he was tired of being sober. 

Stunning acts of underaged drunkeness were going to be performed today, Keiji just knew it. He hoped that he was going to be able to prevent any serious injuries from happening.

When Keiji takes a seat next to him in a corner of the room, Kozume is staring at the screen of his phone, little flying birds crashing to their deaths at his whim, while he whispers, “Turns out it was just a bunch of soda with a splash of whiskey in it. Don't worry too much."

“Small blessing,” Yaku says and points to Kuroo and Bokuto who are attempting to wrestle over what looks like a bag of chocolate mushroom caps. “They don’t need to be inebriated to do ridiculous things. It’s just an excuse.” 

“We’re also doing Seven Minutes in Heaven,” Kuroo says brightly. If there were just a few downy feathers at the side of his mouth, he would look exactly like a cat that had just caught a nice, plump bird to eat. 

Keiji looks at the door that Kuroo points to and makes a face that he hopes fully expresses how unimpressed by all of this he is. He’s incredibly underwhelmed. 

“Akaashi.” Bokuto blinks at him in a way that can only be described as, owlishly. “Do you want to spin first?” 

It’s not like him to want to turn to drink, he’s just not that kind of person, but if Keiji was, then he would have wanted to down something potent in that moment because Bokuto’s big pleading eyes were staring up at him imploringly and he was finding it hard to say no. 

“Fine.” 

Yaku gives him a sympathetic look, but takes his own seat in the circle on the ground and doesn’t exactly run screaming from the room. Small blessings. At least Keiji isn’t the only one here whose sole purpose is damage control. 

He spins the bottle and it makes a hollow whirring sound as it’s plastic sides scratch the floor. 

Slowly, it comes to a stop with the mouthpiece pointed in the direction of one very smiley Kuroo Tetsurou. 

“Looks like it’s my lucky day.” 

He stands first and walks halfway around the small circle of second and third years to help Keiji stand. His fingers are cool and callused in Keiji’s, but his grip is solid and he pulls Keiji up easily. 

“You first,” Kuroo says as he opens the door to the small supplies closet and then quickly follows him inside. The door closes just as Bokuto makes unhappy noises at Washio’s expressionless face and Keiji is left in the half-dark with the satisfying knowledge that what comes around really does go around. 

“Hey, this is nothing personal, but I’m not into you or anyone actually,” Keiji says. Might as well be blunt and nip any potential awkwardness at the bud. 

“Oh ho ho?” 

“We’ve only been here for four hours. Don’t tell me you’ve already picked that back up.” 

“That’s fine, we don’t really have to kiss, we just have to sit here until Kenma let’s us out,” Kuroo explains, his voice calm and smooth even with his knees pressed up uncomfortably against Keiji’s. The supplies closet isn’t that big and there’s actual rubbing alcohol in here, or at least, something that smells like strong cleaning solution. “He’s manning the timer.”

“Great.” 

“Hey, just to keep things interesting, let’s play truth or dare.” 

“What is this, Party Game-ception? We’re playing already playing two other party games.”

“Since you already told a truth, that means I guess I should tell a truth, since dares are a bit hard to do,” Kuroo says like he hadn’t even heard Keiji snipe. He does have a point. They probably have another five minutes to burn away in here and it’s not like they have anything else to do.

“That’s just called sharing secrets,” Keiji whispers. They pause as someone laughs boisterously from the other side of the door. “It’s not a game if you don’t want it to be.” 

“Have you ever worn a dress?” Kuroo asks abruptly. 

Keiji pauses. “Not really.” 

“Well, I have. And it’s pretty nice. You feel pretty, but also powerful, like if you put on some heavy duty boots and wore this beautiful flowing dress outside, you could take on the world and kill a man with your bare hands.” 

“That sounds kind of nice.” 

“I just dress for the occasion, you know? Some days, I wish I could dress the way I feel to school.” Kuroo sounds a little dreamy. 

“So you’ve never been interested in anyone at all?” Kuroo asks. 

The room is dark enough that Keiji can’t even see his eyes. But he can tell by Kuroo’s sincere tone and the bump of his hand against Keiji’s shin that he’s hunkering down to listen. It feels nice to have someone willing to hear more, to let words grow in the silence, instead of having to cut down hopes before they can be misinterpreted. 

“Not in a sexual way. I like having friends, and I’m almost sure that I’d never want a lover. People tell me that someday I’ll want one, but I’m not so sure. I don’t know.” 

“Fuck anyone who says you don’t know yourself best." Kuroo hisses the words with such feeling that Keiji gets the impression that he’s speaking from experience.

" You do you, and that's all you _can_ do.”

Reaching out and touching, what is hopefully, an elbow, Keiji tries to convey with that single touch that he understands the frustration of being shoved into a box and expected to stay still. When you try to define yourself to others and they express their doubts about how genuine your self-confirmed identity is, it eats at you. Why can't they just accept it? Why do they have to construct a history or a reason or a future for you? Are you not real enough? 

It’s a jumble of thoughts and feelings like a shard of bone tucked right under his false ribs, pressing into his insides, only becoming real when he twists in such a way that it hurts. 

They sit in silence for the rest of their seven minutes, their knees bumping comfortably whenever someone breathes too heavily. Kuroo is an unseen presence at the other wall of the closet and Keiji whispers, “Good game” as loudly as he dares when the door finally opens and Kozume’s face appears in the wane light. 

“Times up.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "An Ever-Growing Wonder" by We Came as Romans


End file.
